Oblivion
by Lynyrd Lionheart
Summary: He holds her dagger in his hands, and she tells him to save her. S5 speculation.
1. Oblivion Is Calling Out Your Name

**AN: And now we jump right into the angst. Because it has to happen, right? Also, it's theorizing events of S5, and may turn into a 3-shot or so.**

 **Oblivion Is Calling Out Your Name**

The sunlight glints off the dagger when he angles it just right. He's been sitting on the docks, turning it between his fingers for hours it seems. Each time, he hopes that when he spins it again, the name will have changed. Each time, he's disappointed.

 _Emma Swan_.

They don't know where she's gone, just that she hasn't been seen for twelve hours, not since she took on the darkness of the Dark One and left the dagger behind, the only sign that it had ever happened at all.

Well, that and the Crocodile's new, perfectly clear heart.

Hook had seen him earlier, looking pale but otherwise fine. He had been in the diner, with the royals and Henry, and in had come Rumplestiltskin.

The sight had driven Killian here, because the urge to take the dagger in his heart and shove it through the other man's heart…

It was a stark reminder that darkness could so easily creep up on you. And thinking of darkness made him think of Emma. Emma, who was filled with the power of the Dark One _and_ the Saviour, and who…

 _I love you_.

He hadn't gotten the chance to say it back. It had been on the tip of her tongue earlier, when they had reunited in the loft. And he had toyed with the idea of saying it first, when she had backed out and instead thanked him. But he hadn't, too afraid she wasn't ready to hear it. And then disaster struck, and he hadn't had the chance to say it back.

"Are you going to summon her?"

He stops turning the dagger when Henry comes and sits on the bench next to him. He looks more like Bae every day, and Killian remembers how brave the boy had been in the alternate world. His father would have been proud. Killian certainly was.

"I'm… afraid," he admits hesitantly after a moment, setting the dagger carefully between them. Henry looks at him for a moment, then reaches out and picks it up, resting it on his lap. He runs his fingers over the lettering of his mother's name, then sighs and places it next to Killian again.

"You should summon her."

"Perhaps you should be the one-"

"No," Henry shakes his head, cutting Killian off before he can finish. "She wouldn't want me to see it, and" – he hesitates for a second, gaze darting to the dagger, then back to Killian – "I think you'd be the one she'd want to have it. The dagger. I think you're the one she would trust the most."

Killian raises a brow at that, because certainly the lad or her parents would be just as trustworthy. And yes, he knows she loves him – _it still causes him a pang, because he didn't get to say it back_ – but Henry will always be the most important to her. It's one of the reasons he loves her so dearly.

"You didn't see her, when you died," Henry says with another shake of his head. Killian considers arguing, because he _had_ seen her, and he will probably never forget the stricken look in her eye and the pain of knowing he had put it there; pain even sharper than the dagger the prince had shoved through his heart. "She was… she pulled herself together, because she had hope that you would come back, once everything went back to normal. But she wanted to fall apart. I could tell. When she thought it was over, because of my mom. I think she could have killed the Author, you know. In that split second, before I realized I could be the Author, I think she would have killed him."

It probably shouldn't warm his heart, to think of Swan being able to kill for him, and God knows he would never want to put her in that position… but after so long loving her and fearing it would never be returned…

 _He just wishes he could have said it back_.

"She loves you," Henry finishes. "She really does. So you should summon her."

"I never got to tell her," Killian admits to the boy, looking at the horizon, pain filling his heart once more. "She said it, and then she was gone. And I never got the chance to say it back."

"You still have one" – Henry nudges the dagger over, so that the sharp point is against Killian's finger – "she's not dead. We… we can still save her."

He gets to his feet, and Killian watches for a moment as he walks away.

"You're not going to stay?" he asks him, before Henry is out of hearing distance.

"Nah," he replies, "I told you. Mom wouldn't want me to see her like that."

Then he's gone, and Killian picks up the dagger, turning it in his hands once more. The thought of Swan even considering falling apart over him… he grieves at it, even as he can commiserate.

He wants to fall apart right now. But the lad is right, and there is one way… a single thing he can do.

He holds the dagger out in front of him, her name glinting at him from the dagger's surface. He hates the sight of it, hates what it means.

"Dark One, I summon thee."

He sits there, dagger in front of him, breeze ruffling at his hair. Nothing happens. No sudden smoke, or grand entrance as the Crocodile was so fond of. Just Killian, the dagger, and silence. His hand drops to his side, and a pit forms in his stomach. _This_ is why he had put it off as long as he had. Because Emma had taken on the power and then disappeared, and left the dagger behind. And what… what if that meant…

"Killian?"

He blinks at the figure that appears in front of him. She looks much as she had in the alternate world, except her garb is black. But more than that, it's the skin that gets to him.

It's sparkling _gold_ , the same as the skin he'd once mockingly likened to a crocodile.

And her eyes… her eyes, usually so green and bright aren't green anymore. They appear more yellow, less human. Emma takes a step towards him, and then recoils, keeping her back to him.

"I didn't want anyone to see me like this," she says. "I…"

But she can't finish her thought, because Killian's already gone to her and spun her around, framing her face with his hand, while his other arm wraps around her waist. And the eyes might not be right, and the skin is wrong, but it is _Emma_ , and Killian feels such relief, that he doesn't think twice about pressing a kiss to her lips.

And for a moment, it's _magic_. It's like breathing for the first time, and power prickles against his skin and dances along his nerves.

And then he's flung back, skidding against the ground until he comes to a stop in front of the bench.

"Swan?" he asks in confusion, because he had _felt_ that. Had felt the power.

 _It had been true love_.

"We can't," she tells him, clinging to one of the wooden poles that line the edge of the dock. It almost looks like she's physically restraining herself from going to him, and her eyes look worried, dancing up and down him, as though making sure she hadn't hurt him. Then her eyes dart to the bench, where the dagger sits, and for a second she steps towards it, and it's not Emma anymore, but the Dark One.

It's just a moment, where her eye flash dark and she looks almost malevolent, and then she recoils again, hugging her stomach and looking ill.

"The Dark One… true love's kiss will just release it, and then we'll be back to square one. We need to find the Sorcerer, Killian. We need to find Merlin."

"Then we will, Swan. Just take my hand. Come with me and we'll find him. Us and your family."

"Don't you get it?" Emma asks, shaking her head. "I can't… I can't be near _that_."

That is the dagger, glinting in the sun, and Emma's gaze on it is hungry again. Killian goes to it and lifts it, and when he turns back to her, her fingers are clenching and unclenching, and she's looking anywhere but at him and what he holds.

"You can't be near the dagger."

"Everything in me wants to take it and hide it away where it will never be found. To kill anyone that would even _try_ to use it to harm me."

"I would never-"

"I know," she tells him, her voice desperate. "God, Killian, I know. I just… _I_ know, but the Dark One? I told you once that the only person who saves me, is me."

"I remember," Killian replies, because he remembers everything his Swan has ever told him.

 _Including I love you._

"I was wrong. This once… I need you to save me, Killian. I need you to take that dagger, and not look back. Not until we know how to stop this."

Her voice is pleading, but the pleas are unnecessary. He will do anything for her. Anything to bring her back to him.

"I promise," he swears.

"Good. And you have to keep anyone else from that dagger… even… even _me_."

He can see the hunger again, and realizes that what Emma is asking won't be easy. Because the Dark One lurks there, and it wants the dagger and the power, and Emma is the most powerful of light magic, and now of dark as well.

Right now she pleads for him to keep the dagger away from her. But given time under the Dark One's spell?

She may very well become the biggest barrier to her own salvation.

"Swan, I l-"

"Don't," she says, with a sharp shake of her head, making Killian stop his speaking. "Don't. I… when you say it, I want you to say it to _me_. Just me."

"Okay," Killian replies with a nod. "Okay. But Emma… know that I mean it."

Emma closes her eyes, a pained smile crossing her lips.

"I know. And know that right now, in this exact moment, I mean it to" – then her eyes snap open again, and Killian can see the darkness dancing in them once more – "and also know, that the next time we meet… I might not."

Killian clutches the dagger to his chest and gives a sharp nod, and Emma disappears in a cloud of smoke, dark and tainted and completely unlike the magic that had made her the savior.

Killian vowed that he would get it back.

 **AN: Because there has to be a reason that Killian can't just TL kiss the Dark One right out of her, right? So I figured that no Dark One!Emma means they're right back at the start, so they need to find the Sorcerer and find out what the hell to do first.**

 **And also, I bet the Dark One influences people… and Emma really won't be used to that, since she had the darkness that people naturally have sucked out of her. So what if that makes her a little more susceptible? Will her love for Killian be enough? Stick around for answers.**


	2. You've Gone Somewhere Deeper

**AN: And here is part 2. I'm not sure how long this will be. I don't plan on making it some long, epic take on S5. So I think it will probably only be 3 to 5 chapters. But I hope you enjoy it!**

 **You've Gone Somewhere Deeper**

He wakes in the dark of night and knows that something isn't right.

It's been two weeks of seeking the Sorcerer. They have no portals between worlds here, but they do have Ariel. The mermaid has been swimming back and forth and between the realms while he and Belle have been scouring the library for anything that might help. The easy friendship that had developed is gone – he can't forget that Emma is what she is because of the Crocodile, and Belle can't bring herself to give up her love for him. But they manage a cordial enough relationship under a joint purpose.

He had been at the library late, only to the stumble to the loft and up to her room, falling into the bed that Emma had used. He had been hesitant at first, to accept the royals' invitation to stay with them. But then he had come here and lain on her bed, and the pillow had still smelled like her. That had made the decision easy.

He couldn't summon her, for fear that doing so would make everything more difficult for her. But he could fall into this bed and lose himself to exhaustion surrounded by the scent of her.

And so when he awakes, he knows that something is wrong.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light that the moon offers, shining through the window. When they do, they're drawn immediately to the chair next to the bed. The chair that wasn't there when he fell asleep.

Emma sits there, legs crossed, unsettling eyes watching him hungrily.

"Emma," he murmurs, and it doesn't matter to him that she looks more like a crocodile that Rumplestiltskin these days. He's simply too relieved to see her again, after two weeks of silence.

"Killian," she murmurs, her voice low and husky. She gets out of the chair and climbs onto the bed, until she's straddling him. She entwines her fingers with his, and he's reminded of that day, when they had come back from the Author's tale, and she had been so happy to see him…

There are no giggles or joyful hugs this time, though. She looks at him for a moment, then presses her lips to his neck, trailing them down to his chest. He's shirtless, and she takes full advantage, swirling her tongue around his nipple and making him throw his head back and stare up at the roof.

This is wrong. He can feel it in her actions. This isn't right… and it's not just because she's the Dark One. There's more… a darkness that wasn't there when last they met. But his body doesn't care. It responds to Emma's touch, like a drowning man responds to oxygen.

Emma is his oxygen. Has been nearly from the start.

"Love," he murmurs, trying to break his hand free from her grip. Her fingers tighten, her other hand drifting down the front of his body, to the erection that has begun to tent the sheets.

"Shh, Killian," she murmurs, her breath hot against his ear, and then she presses a kiss to the skin just below it. "You don't want to wake my parents up."

He gulps at the feel of her lips, her _tongue_ , and his eyes drift shut. Then she giggles.

And he freezes.

That isn't her giggle. He's heard his Swan's giggle before. Admittedly not often, but enough that he cherishes each and every time. She had giggled as they'd tumbled to this very bed. When she had magicked his hook away. Her giggle is a sound that causes him joy, because it's a sure sign that she's happy, and she deserves to always be happy.

This giggle… oh, he's heard this giggle before. But never from her. Never from Emma.

He's heard it from the Crocodile.

It was the sound he'd made as he disappeared with Killian's hand, leaving him behind to hold a dying Milah. It was the sound he'd made when he'd decided to kill him in their adventure to the past, before Emma had stopped him.

He sits up, forcing Emma to move with him, and carefully extracts his wrist from her grip. She looks at him with a pout and falls back from him with a huff.

"You look so serious. Weren't you enjoying my little gift?"

There is a dark glint in her eyes as she speaks, and they rove over his chest with a clear interest. Once, he would have happily thrown himself back on the bed and let her fulfill the promises that interest offers. But this isn't once, and this isn't his Emma.

"Lass, you know how much I was enjoying it," he replies, cupping her cheek, running thumb along her chin. Denying it would be a lie, and both of them knew it. "But we both know that's not what you're here for."

She turns her face into his hand, for a moment he can practically feel his Emma in her again, as she closes her eyes and nuzzles against his hand. He leans in, presses a soft kiss against her lips –

And she recoils, her eyes flashing with anger and… is that fear?

Not Emma's fear.

The Dark One's fear.

"Emma-" he begins.

"You can't do that!" she snaps, and magic flares around her – dark and tainted and it causes Killian pain to see that. She takes a dark breath, and magic dies down, her shoulders relax, and her voice is calmer when she speaks again. "Remember, we can't just… _break_ this. Not until we know what will happen."

The words are the right thing to say. They do have to be careful, of course. If they simply unleash the Dark One once more, they'll be back to where they started, Emma's sacrifice for naught. She makes perfectly valid points.

He doesn't buy it for a second.

He saw her eyes. This isn't Emma's logic. This is the Dark One's logic, and he's beginning to realize that there is a difference. That Emma is fighting against the darkness, and so they aren't one being, not as the Crocodile had been.

Emma is there and fighting, and Killian can get through to her.

"Emma. Love," he moves to her, and she backs away, until the rails are at her back, and he cups her cheek again. "I see you in there, Swan. You're a fighter, and I've never known you to fail."

He sees her there again, fighting with the darkness when her hand comes up to hold his. Her grip is tight, almost painfully so, but Killian revels in the pain. Because it's a sign that she's there and fighting.

"It's hard," she whispers, closing her eyes, and she looks so tired. Her shoulders curl, as though they're holding up a weight, and he notices the shadows under eyes. He wraps her in his arms, clutching her tightly to his chest. Her arms wrap around him in return, holding on as though for dear life.

"Don't let me go," she pleads, her voice muffled by his chest. Her hands are warm on his back, fingers digging into the muscle.

"Never," he swears, and he's never meant a promise more. He will never let go of her, not as long as she wishes him to hold her.

They somehow find their way back into the bed, Emma curled with her back to Killian's chest. She keeps their fingers entwined, as though that can somehow ground her to this moment of clarity she's managed to achieve. Killian buries his nose in her hair and closes his eyes, wishing that he could make this easier for her. That he could be the one to take on this burden.

"I want to say it," he whispers. "I want to say it so bad."

But he doesn't. Because she had asked him not to. Because when she heard the words from him, she wanted to be in her right mind, and Killian could only respect her request.

"I know," she says, her grip tightening once more. "I know. I still mean it."

 _I still mean it – I'm still_ me.

"Go to sleep, Swan," he murmurs, and he can feel her relax against him. He knows that he should remain awake. That while she is the woman he loves, she's also dangerous… and the darkness within her is clever and not inclined to go easily.

But he hasn't slept truly well since she left him, and soon he's following her into dreams. It's the best sleep he's had in over two weeks, since this Author mess began.

When he awakes the next morning, the room is a mess and he curses himself for a fool. Because the drawer where he had kept her dagger – _and how could he be so stupid? Except it comforted him, to have it close. To be able to keep an eye on it_ – and he scurries out the bed, knocking the chair she had been sitting in the previous night over with a bang.

"Hook?" he hears the prince behind him, but he's not able to respond.

His shoulders have slumped as he stares down at the drawer, and all he feels is relief. The Dark One may have wanted to find the dagger, but Emma had won in the end. Of course she had – his Swan was a fighter.

The dagger is still there, gleaming up at him, _Emma Swan_ written across its surface.

 _I still mean it._

 **AN: And I gave some hope in this one! Because that's the rules that I was given on Tumblr – that any CS angst I have must include some fluff. So this works, right? Thanks to everyone that's reviewed, and please let me know what you think!**


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